Without Any Words
by LiveLoveLaugh77
Summary: When George tells Angelina Johnson about Fred's death, she's heartbroken.  She'd always had a crush on Fred.  But then Angelina notices how different George is since the death of his brother, and even though he looks the same, George is a DIFFERENT person


Angelina's eyes were wide. Her mouth hung wide open. Her face was drained of all color after the smile that had been stuck on her face had evaporated. The smile had been gone after she had heard the words of her good friend. Angelina's bottom lip began to tremble.

It wasn't possible. It couldn't be. It wasn't true. Slowly, a mischevious smile began to errupt on her lips. She was still not completely convinced, but she began to shook her head, her smile knowing the types of things that George would do.

"That's not funny, George," Angelina said.

George Weasley stood in front of her. His face was if it were a stone. He hadn't expected any other reaction. He stared at Angelina, knowing she would overcome her shock and come out of denial sooner or later.

"That's not funny," Angelina repeated. "Fred!" she called out, a little louder, but weaker. She peered over George's shoulder. "You can come out, now, Fred! I know you're not dead! This isn't funny!" her voice was weaker. She gave a forced laugh, wanting to believe that this was a joke. It had to be. Of course it was. The twins were jokers.

She searched George's face, hoping with all hope that it would crack, and he would smile, and then Fred would come out. And then--then she could kiss Fred like she'd always meant to do. Then she could finally be with him. But George's face was the same blank look. He was stone. He didn't smile. He looked at Angelina's face.

Her smile was gone now. She was awaiting George's reaction, her face anxious for an answer that she wanted. She searched George's face hopelessly, her eyes darting back and forth, looking for some sign. Her next words were quiet--her last hope.

"Is it--is he really...?" she let her voice trail off. She couldn't bear to say the word. It was too hard. _Dead _was such a...a scary word. But Angelina was a strong person. She couldn't let George get the wrong impression. She straightened her face and her body, looked square into George's expressionless eyes, and finished her sentence.

"Dead?"

George did not hesitate.

"Yes."

Angelina broke down. She sobbed and sobbed, her face in her hands, ashamed of what she was doing. Fred! Fred was supposed to be alive and happy! He couldn't be dead! It wasn't fair! She was supposed to kiss him! It was not fair!

George watched her cry. He didn't say anything. Ever since his twin had died, no one had been able to get through to him. The Weasleys had all sobbed, himself included. He was out of tears. He had cried all he could. After that, he had been a stone of no affection.

Every once in a while, he would talk to Ron about how he felt. But only every once in a while. At first, with his talks with Ron, he had searched Ron's face, wanting to see a reflection of himself like he always had with Fred. Wanting to see that same mirror of himself that he always had with Fred. But all he saw was only _almost _himself.

Molly Weasley, after she had seen her son acting like this around her youngest son, had once said to her husband,

"I wish he would open up to _me_! I'm his mother!" she was somewhat jealous, though a little relieved that George would at least talk to _somebody. _

"Molly," Arthur had said. "Don't stress over it. George isn't used to this, yet. He talks to Ron because Ron looks most like him. That's what he's used to."

Molly had sighed, and said, rather quietly, "I wonder when he's going to tell Angelina...You know, Fred always liked her." A tear had streamed down her cheek, but Molly was used to that by know. "George liked her, too...but Angie had liked Fred..."

"If I were a girl," Arthur had said, trying to lighten the mood. "I wouldn't have been able to choose! There's not--I mean, there wasn't much of a difference at all." His attempt didn't work.

"There was always something about Fred; that's what Angelina told me..." After that, husband and wife sat in silence.

Now, standing there, watching Angelina cry, something clicked inside of George. Something turned on. Watching the tears fall from Angelina's eyes made George's old affection for her turn back on. He suddenly realized what he had been doing for the past four months in which Fred had been dead--he had been a nothing. He hadn't spoken to anyone. Except Ron, but he had never let out all of his feelings. And now, seeing Angelina cry, he felt something wet falling down his cheek. He wondered what it was.

_It's a tear, _George thought, wearily. But he knew it was more than that. It was a barrier. It was a broken barrier. And now, he was free to let out all of his emotinons. More tears streamed down his cheeks.

He slowly put his arm around Angelina, and cried with her. She meant to push it away, but she didn't. She raised her head for a second to look into Fred's--no, George's--face, and then she sobbed harder. He cried and cried with her, too.

* * *

Angelina and George had stopped crying, and they were sitting, explaining all of their hidden feelings. Angelina had confessed that she used to be sweet on Fred. George had told about the way he'd been acting for the last months. Suddenly, Angelina said something shocking. 

"You know, George, I always, well, had a crush on Fred," Angelina peered at George, hoping he would catch on to what she was trying to say.

George smiled weakly. He had always liked Angelina, though he knew she had liked his twin. And he had always tried to accept that fact. "I know."

"And," said Angelina, a little embarressed, now. "I had always, well...after I graduated from Hogwarts, I had vowed to someday kiss Fred's face." She was really blushing, now, and so was George.

George's heart was sinking, though he was smiling weakly, still, and a little sadly. "Yes, I understand." He shifted in his seat.

The two were sitting outside of Olivander's old shop, on stools, in Diagon alley, watching grinning people pass by. Everyone was still ecstactic--no more Voldemort! Everyone thought of him, now, as a bad memory. Everyone bore smiles. Most everyone was oblivious to Fred's death.

"Well," continued Angelina, miserable that she was saying what she was saying. She stared at her feet and whispered, "I don't want to break that vow."

George was a bit stunned and confused. He tilted his face at her, frowned and said, quizzicaly, "But how can you keep your promise to yourself if Fred is dead?" Now that he had spoken to Angelina, he was all right with stating the fact, but still a little rusty on speaking out loud, so he winced at the last word.

Angelina didn't answer. She raised her head for one second, just to make sure that George had Fred's exact features. She blushed madly, now, and whispered so that she could barely hear herself,

"You have Fred's face." She said it miserably, though a little pleased with herself. Something inside of her was a teensy bit happy.

George was shocked. He leaned back, away from Angelina, not understanding at all what she meant.

And then it hit him.

She was meaning to kiss _him_. She was meaning to kiss _him _as a way to keep her vow of kissing Fred. George was stunned. Did she really want to? Truly? He supposed, if she truly, really, deeply wanted to...she could...He shook his head, completely confounded as to what he should do. Should he let her do it as a favor to she and his dead brother? Or should he say 'no,' because it was absolutely preposterous?

_Was _it absolutely preposterous?

A small voice spoke those words inside of George's head, and he shook it off, thinking, _Of course it is. I will say 'no.' _But George was not convincing himself, and deep down, down, down, he knew he wanted to. He had always liked Angelina, he knew it. But even now, kissing her would just be a way for her to use him. So that she could kiss Fred. Sort of. But something way down, deeper than deeper than deeper than deep, a voice smaller than a mustard seed said,

_What if she really likes you? _

George could barely hear this voice inside of himself at all, so he didn't respond to it at all, just let it float around there, in his mind full of thoughts. It seemed to be echoing itself. George finally cleared his throat.   
"A--all right. What exactly do you mean by that?" but George knew exactly what she meant by it.

Angelina looked up. She felt her old, strong-willed, Quidditch-girl self coming up inside of her and out her mouth.

"George Weasley, you know exactly what I mean by that."

George stopped short. "I--you--you want to--I guess...he--here's some tongue taffy from the joke shop, if you want it." He didn't know what he was saying. He just wanted to change the subject. He guessed, that secretly, he really did want to--want to--do the thing that Angelina wanted him to do, but he couldn't bare to admit it!

Angelina burst out laughing. Tears of laughter cascaded down her chocolate brown face as she laughed out loud. Then, suddenly, she stopped. How could she be laughing when Fred was dead? That just wasn't right.

"Okay, George," she said, folding her hands, calmly. "I am not going to respond to that comment. I expect you to say what you think."

George stuttered, again. "I--I--um...you..." he cleared his throat, and imitating Angelina, hiding a smile, he folded his hands in his lap, and very business-like, said,

"I believe that is necessary." Then he cleared his throat, and began. "I, uh...I think that, uh...since you, um...made this, uh, this, promsie to yourself, I can, uh, let you...um..."

"Say it," Angelina whispered, intensely. "Say the k-word."

"You can, um...k--kiss me." George winced, squinting his eyes. He had really never said that word before in connection to himself. He cleared his throat again, to let Angelina know he was serious.

"Okay." Angelina cleared her throat, too. Then she began to lean forward.

Very, very, very slowly...what seemed like hours...the two leaned toward each other. And then--when they were about an inch apart, Angelina pushed forward like a bolt of lightning and pecked George on the lips, like a chicken would pick up its food. She could barely even feel the connection.

George felt something light brush against his lips. He expected it to be a fly, or something...it couldn't be Angelina, she wouldn't go that fast. She was taking a really long time. A couple seconds later, George was still there, with his eyes closed.

Angelina felt uncomfortable, so she cleared her throat yet again and said, while examining George's face,

"Um, George."

He opened his eyes, and, quickly realizing what had happened, he spoke,

"Oh, gosh..."

"Yeah. Oh, gosh is right." Angelina said, grinning. The two broke out laughing, yet again, and this time, laughing with George didn't seem like a betraual to Fred. Angelina laughed while noticing George had actually one or two freckles in a different placement than Fred's did. But then, she noticed larger significances, like how George's eyes were a deeper blue, and more full of meaning, and powerful happenings, and how his lips were just so much bigger, and more kissable...

She stopped, at that thought. She couldn't be thinking what she thought she was thinking. It wasn't possible.

But Angelina knew a crush when she saw one, and this was definitely one of them.

* * *

Hours later, George and Angelina were walknig down the Diagon Alley streets. They were talking. Even though they'd been talking practically the whole day.

"Well, I've gotta go," Angelina fiinally said. "I've got Quidditch practice."

"What?"

"I'm a professional Quidditch player, now."

"You are?"

"Yep."

"Cool."

"Yeah."

"So..."

"Bye."

"Yeah, bye."

But Angelina wasn't leaving. The two people stood, locking eyes as people walked around them, thinking of them as just another blooming couple. There were about a half dozen boys just beside them, looking longlingly into the window at, yes, another "newest" broomstick But Angelina and George did not notice them.

And then, it happened. Neither Fred nor Angelina knew what they were doing. Angelina felt her hands being guided upward, and at first she thought _This must be some kind of weird jinx, or something, _but then she realized that there was some part in her brain that was telling her to move her hands. And she realized that she, she herself, her own body, was obeying.

And her eyes were closing, and before they closed all the way, she saw George's hands moving, and his eyes closing, and she thought, again, that it was some type of weird magic, and then, suddnely she knew what was happening. And she knew George was doing it willingly. And she was, too.

She felt George's lips on hers. This was the moment. And it really was, the moment, that is. Angelina felt something shivering up her spine, and she liked the feeling of George's warm lips being pressed against hers. It was just light, because the two were just testing it out.

Angelina and George both knew it was time to pull away. They both stood there, smiling at each other, oblivious to the hustle and bustle about them. Then Angelina leaned forward again, and closed her eyes again, and felt George's lips on hers again. But this time, she wanted more. So she pressed harder, more passionately, and George followed her lead. She kissed him again, trying from different angles. She was playing with George's red hair, now, sort of absent-mindedly, as he held her by the waist, not daring to move his hands at all.

Angelina was confident. So she considered what she was about to do for only about one second, but this feeling just felt so good, she had to have more. _It is only a first kiss, _thought Angelina. But nothing could stop her, now. She snaked her tongue out of her mouth and licked George's top lip, asking for entrance.

At first, George was surprised, but he didn't stop kissing, the feeling was too good. Then he hesitated, then he opened his mouth and let Angelina's warm tongue slide into his mouth. He felt it slipping around inside of him, sort of tickling him. George couldn't help but let out a little laugh. He could feel Angelina smile into the kiss. She continued to explore every twist and turn of his mouth.

_Well, if she can do that, _George thought, gleefully, _then I can do this! _He began to move his hands up and down her body, memorizing every twist and turn by heart. He moved up, to her neck, then down her arms, then back to her waist and up her stomach, then back to her waist.

_He's avoiding _The Spotthought Angelina. And she gently took his hands and placed them on her chest. He understood, and kept them there.

Finally, Angelina pulled away, gasping for breath, after a long session of kissing.

"Pretty intense for a first kiss," Angelina said, grinning at George. There was so much more she could have said--but that seemed to be all that really _needed _to be said.

"Yeah," George said. "Here, take my hand."

Angelina took it, and, without warning, she gasped, feeling the unpleasant sensation of apparating.

When they landed, Angelina faced George before even noticing where she was. "George, don't you _ever _do that again!"

He just smiled, and let her finally notice the scenery. She gasped again, but this time because of the beauty. They were on top of a green hillside. The sun was bright, lighting the world as best it could before it set. There were tall trees, but they were _below _them. Angelina felt like crying, it was so beautiful.

"Where is this?" she managed to whisper.

But George didn't answer--unless you count a kiss. He stepped in and kiss her lightly. Then he pulled away, but she pulled him back and they kissed again, more passionately. Then they stopped, held hands and sat down, and without any words at all, none at all, they sat down and watched.

They watched for the rest of the evening. Without any words.


End file.
